


Breath

by RyMagnatar



Series: Love Senses [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Highschool age, Humanstuck, M/M, Pesterlog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave talks with his boyfriend over pesterlogs. He gets a .wav file from Eridan and listens to it. Later, he listens to it again. Alone. In his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inhale

You have a thing for music, for speech, for sound in general. When you plug in your headphones to your table and begin to spin the records, you fall into the world of sound in a way you can’t fall into anything else. Sound clings to your mind the way images do for other people, or the way words do for Rose. She picks up the written word in any form faster than anyone you’ve even heard of before. And John has a knack for the way videos work, his mind a little buzzing wheel of motion itself. Jade, you figure, has got that tactile shit _down_ _pat_ , since no one does science like she does. She was born to experiment, you would swear up, down and sideways about that.

But you- you are the auditory kid. Always having to struggle a bit when it came to having to sit and read through huge chunks of text for class and the others didn’t quite understand that for the longest time. “Just read it,” Jade would sigh, “it’s only ten pages!” and John would laugh and you’d feel this burning shame because reading was difficult and you were never really sure why.

  Then Rose read that book on different types of learning and ever since then in your study-quads, Jade’s word for your study groups, Rose would read out loud to you- or John or Jade sometimes. You wouldn’t forget the way that they uniformly decided to help you through your classes, instead of tormenting you over your differences. That’s why they were more than your friends, they were practically family.

 Sound was your thing. It just was. You spun the songs and tapped the rhythms and spoke the rhymes, it was _you_.

 So when you got that internet boyfriend thing going on- these days who didn’t have an internet whatsit at least once?- when you figured it was about time to get to know each other better, you asked for an audio clip. He had spluttered and then went silent for a while, oh you remember this well, and then he had asked, why not a picture? Didn’t you want to see his face?

 Of course you did. Just not first. You wanted his voice first. It was weird, you understood that, but it was what you wanted and after some minor, purely for appearances, resistance, he gave in. For days he went back and forth on what he was going to send you; maybe a reading of his favorite author, or something he had written, maybe something from one of his plays or hell a musical. You didn’t care, you told him that much, but he wanted it to be ~perfect~.

 Finally, in a fit of exasperation, you had said,

TG: sing me a song you idiot  
TG: one of your favorites or something  
TG: you know how much i love your shitty taste in music  


 and just like the problem was solved. The only problem was that he left shortly afterwards, with no indication on what he was planning to sing for you.

 If you were to be honest with yourself, the idea of him singing a song _for you_ , even if it was probably one of his weird hipster ones, gave you butterflies in your stomach like nothing else ever had. The first time you would hear his voice and it would be in song? In the back of your mind you were already thinking about what other songs you were going to splice it into, hoping that it was going to be as amazing as you thought, so it would work well with some of your other favorites.

 Your anxiety over the situation only grew the longer he was logged off. For the rest of that day and, to your surprise, for the next day and a half, your little minstrel internet lover was away. It was only because you had school and a let’s-help-jade-work-on-science! party that kept you sane.

 That and the thought that he was probably more nervous than you ever could be at this. Considering the fact that he was the one presenting his voice for your judgment and also his weird nit-picky behavior, you weren’t all that surprised he would take his time. You lay awake at night wondering how many times he recorded the song, worried that he didn’t sound right, worried that he had messed up, fussing over a single note or his enunciation. You couldn’t help but smile, on one hand surprised that you knew him so well to imagine all this, and on the other hand so very glad that you did.

 He liked to talk about himself, his mannerisms and the shit that happened in his school. About that girl who was once his best friend and then some proverbial shit hit the fan that got him moved out of his old school and into the “shitheap” he was in now. About the weird kids he got stuck with and his bossy and controlling father and his flighty, often drunk mother. About his books and his clothes and pretty much everything ever in his life. Your boyfriend had about much control over his mouth as the president had over Katrina tearing up Lousiana.

 Well, for everything except where he fucking _lived_ and his last name. He was Fort Knox when it came to anything about where he was. Some sort of imposed rule by his parents. Which fucking _sucked_ because it meant you couldn’t even figure out how many miles were apart and how long a trip there would be and calculate the amount of gas such a trip would take-

 -not that you did anything like that. You were too cool for whimsical roadtrip planning to go find and kidnap your boyfriend and drive down the coast together, hell no that wasn’t your cup of apple juice at all. Not even one bit. Nope.

 After that day of absence, you were about ready to try and hunt him down _anyway_ but he finally showed up. You waited ten seconds to keep it from looking like you were desperate to see him, because you were not at all, and then message away.

 

 **\--turntechGodhead [** **TG** **] began trolling caligulasAquarium [** **CA** **]--**

TG: dude  
TG: about time  
TG: like seriously it really took you long enough to record one little song for me what the hell  
CA: hello to you too dave  
CA: and it was more than one little song  
TG: eribubbles arent you forgetting something  
TG: something along the lines of vv or ww  
TG: or has something gotten your little checkered knickers into a twist making you go and forget all your spazzy little wavy quirks?  
CA: you know exactly what has my ‘knickers’ in a twist  
CA: and how did you know they were checkered  
TG: what  
TG: really  
TG: you are really wearing checkered boxers  
CA: er  
CA: yes  
CA: is there a problem wwith that  
TG: ah there is your quirk again  
TG: everything is right with my world once more  
TG: now  
TG: more about your boxers  
CA: ugh  
CA: not this again i am not tellin you about my boxers so you can appease your wweird pervverted self  
TG: you love my weird perverted self  
TG: boxers  
TG: talk  
CA: do you wwant to talk about my clothes or do you wwant the audio clip  
CA: tonight it is one or the other davve  
TG: woah what  
TG: why  
CA: because ivve been pretty much sick ovver this damn song and recordin evver since you asked me to do it and its been affectin my sleepin patterns and evverythin!  
TG: oh shit  
TG: well fine give me the audio clip dude  
TG: youre not really that sick about this are you?  
 **\--caligulasAquarium [** **CA** **] sent you a file! "dontfuckinmakefunofmyvvoiceoritsovver.wav"--**  
CA: and yes i am  
CA: but its mostly nervves or wwhatevver  
CA: like before i go on stage  
TG: huh  
TG: interesting save name for your musical gift there darlin  
CA: dont you darlin me im fuckin serious  
CA: i wwont stand for anyone trashin my vvoice  
TG: dude i wont trash it  
TG: im goin to listen to it now ok  
CA: wwait!  
CA: wwait til im gone  
TG: what no  
TG: why should i do that  
TG: dont you want instant feedback  
CA: no!  
CA: just listen to it wwhen im gone okay  
CA: wwhich wwont be long i havve to go soon  
TG: how soon is soon  
CA: like almost noww soon i guess ivve just been stressed and havvent wworked on my homewwork  
CA: and dad is bein an ass and hovverin ovver me like im goin to fail just by not wworkin on my shit for a day and a half  
CA: he evven gavve me the wwhole if you need to cut back on some of your studies so you dont ovvertax yourself speech he givves me around midterms  
TG: wow okay  
TG: tell your dad that you have to stay on to console your long distance boyfriend from withdrawl  
TG: im sure that will make him fell way better  
TG: winky face  
CA: oh my god you are such a fuckin butt  
TG: not yet im not  
CA: oh my fuckin god!  
CA: you did not just  
TG: oh youll find that i did just  
TG: i did just that all over your screen eripoodle  
TG: shhh now just accept it  
CA: you really are so fuckin pervverse davve that isnt wwhat i meant at all it wwas an insult!  
TG: blame my environment dude  
TG: you cant grow up with bro and not be perverse  
CA: wwhatevver  
CA: i just havve this feelin that wwhen wwe meet the first thing you are goin to try and do is grab my ass  
TG: hell yeah  
TG: i will cop your choice choice ass  
TG: the plushest of asses  
CA: you dont evven knoww that for sure  
TG: your ass  
TG: my hands  
TG: miraculous  
CA: no  
CA: just  
TG: yes  
CA: no!  
TG: dude why are you resisting  
TG: give into your carnal nature eridoodle  
TG: youre a teenage boy cmon give in to the  
TG: peer pressure  
CA: i am a strong independent black wwoman davve  
CA: i wwont givve into your tauntin   
TG: cmon dude why wont you let me touch your ass this is horrible news  
TG: how will i live  
TG: without fondling your ass  
CA: youvve done pretty wwell so far davve  
TG: eripie  
TG: ericuddles  
TG: eriwiggles  
TG: eribaby  
CA: davve no  
TG: eribanana  
TG: eriplush  
TG: eripillow  
CA: davve  
CA: davve i knoww wwhat you are doin  
TG: eribottle  
TG: no you dont you have no idea  
TG: erishades  
TG: erisheets  
CA: davve stop it this is embarrassin  
TG: erimattress  
TG: eriinmybed  
TG: cant stop wont stop  
TG: eriyolo  
CA: SERIOUSLY  
CA: DID YOU JUST SERIOUSLY  
TG: winky face  
CA: thats it im so outta this convversation  
TG: wait no  
TG: baby come back  
TG: any kind of fool could see  
TG: there was something in everything about you  
CA: davve what  
[TG](http://youtu.be/JUSZ9-x-Yjg?t=1m14s): baby come back  
TG: you can blame it all on me  
TG: i was wrong  
CA: this is a song isnt  
CA: you are quotin one of your shitty old songs to me arent you  
TG: and i just cant live without you  
CA: ….  
CA: i  
TG: <3  
CA: fuckin hell davve  
TG: my old shitty songs work dont even bother telling me they dont  
CA: you fuckin wwin this time you asshole  
CA: <3  
TG: score  
TG: thats 42 for Strider and 28 for eriduck  
CA: i wwas certain i had reached 30 already  
TG: nope you lost points last wweek remember three of them  
TG: when i had to put up with your bitching about fishtits  
TG: remember the rule you made that rule  
CA: i remember i remember  
TG: you mention fishtits you lose a point  
CA: i brought her up three times but hey it wwas a big fuckin deal  
CA: and i still cant get ovver that name you gavve her holy fuck  
TG: two things you have to accept erisnuggles  
TG: one i will cop your choice ass  
TG: and two i will always refer to her as fishtits  
CA: ugh  
TG: i get she was your best girl for years  
TG: but you took her to the aquarium and to hard rock cafe and shopping and then she took some other dude to homecoming or whatever that same night  
TG: its unforgivable  
CA: davve  
CA: i dont wwant to talk about it again okay  
TG: right sure  
CA: anywway i havve to go  
CA: dad says my fuckin precal is callin my name  
TG: oh dude is he doing that ghostly math call again  
CA: yes  
CA: its so fuckin crazy  
CA: you havve no idea  
TG: i can imagine it pretty damn well  
TG: eridaaaaaaan  
CA: oh my god no  
TG: eridaaaaaan dooooo meeeeee  
CA: wwhy is my boyfriend the most embarrassin person on the fuckin planet  
TG: doooooo meeeeeee eridaaaaaaaan  
TG: come find my x!  
TG: what is the degree of my angles!  
CA: davve wwhy  
CA: wwhy are you doin this to me  
TG: ooohhh sharpen your pencil baby  
TG: i love a good sharp point on your lead  
CA: your shitty songs wwere wway better at romancin me than this math bs is  
TG: oh i can go back to that if you like  
CA: nope nope  
CA: nope.jpg  
TG: okay.jpg  
CA: seriously i havve to go stop messagin me okay i cant leavve your messages unanswwered  
TG: haha  
TG: perfectionist  
CA: wwhat no that is not it at all  
CA: i just hate it wwhen you get the last wword  
TG: cmon you know i always get the last word  
TG: i get the last everything  
CA: not this time nope  
TG: everytime  
CA: nope!  
CA:  i wwill wwin  
CA: <3  


 **\--caligulasAquarium [** **CA** **] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [** **TG** **]--**

TG: bastard  
TG: didnt even give me a chance to finish  
TG: baby come back  
TG: any kind of fool could see  
TG: there was something in everything about you  
TG: baby come back  
TG: you can blame it all on me  
TG: i was wrong  
TG: and i just cant live without you  
TG: all day long  
TG: wearing a mask of false bravado  
TG: trying to keep up the smile that hides a tear  
TG: but as the sun goes down  
TG: i get that empty feeling again  
TG: how I wish to God  
TG: that you were here  
TG: …  
TG: <3

**\--turntechGodhead [** **TG** **] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [** **CA** **]--**

 

Sitting back in your chair, you know you’re smiling like a sap but hey, Bro’s out and your webcam is covered so there’s no chance anyone will see that at all. So you smile, you fucking _grin_ to yourself because well, if you don’t you will feel like utter shit. It’s fucking hard loving someone so far away. It’s hard and no one understands.

 You scroll up through the conversation, reliving a little glory, your triumph over fishtits and your spewing of nicknames. It all makes you smile, even his annoying conservativeness is endearing to you today. At the beginning of the document you are suddenly reminded why this whole conversation was a bit more important to you than all the others. The audio file. The one that kept him away for pretty much two days. The one that contributed to him leaving so ‘soon’.

 Suddenly your throat seems a little dry and you lick your lips in anxiousness. What if he _did_ have a horrible singing voice? What if it was a nasally, awful sound and he was off key? Even worse, what if he just belted out the words like some sort howler monkey, ignorant of the music at all?

 Fuck this could be a beartrap in the middle of the woods in the dark while you walk towards the only cabin for miles, you might have to actually chew your leg off to survive this one. With a sigh you slide your headphones into place over your ears and for half a second you embrace the complete silence that they give you. Then you make sure the jack is plugged in and get to the file. You pull it out of your downloads folder, drop it into the “misc eribubbles shenanigans” that’s full of screencaps of his weird typos and pictures he’s sent you of stuff on the internet and then, finally, your heart pounding, your throat dry as a desert and your stomach full of squirming worms, you open the wav file.

 The first thing you hear is him breathing. Soft, almost silent, but _there_. Cautiously you turn up the volume, and habitually you start the song over again. You don’t even bother trying to stop yourself from counting the seconds- eight of them- before that soft “ _okay here goes nothin’”_ and you would laugh about how he drops his g’s when he talks if you weren’t too busy being a pile of jello in your chair. He sounds so--

 He sounds so perfect. Amazing. You don’t have the words for it. You don’t think you will ever have the words for it. All you know is that the sound of it is making your veins turn to lava and your heart beat even faster. And he hasn’t even begun to sing yet; how are you going to _survive_?

 The [guitar](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RfxAcMFlSI)starts twelve seconds into the recording, and at first you think this is the actual soundtrack but _no_ your little theater dork went and played the song on guitar for you, that _prick_. Your eyes are closed, your fingers are slightly curled where they rest on your thighs. You bow your head and you give yourself into the song, and finally, to the sound of his voice.

 He sucks in a breath at eleven and you shiver just a little, and right after he begins to sing. His perfect voice is confident. None of that soft uncertainty of his whisper, or fighting for calm in his breathing is present in his song.

_My ship went down, in a sea of sound._  
 _When I woke up alone I had everything;_  
 _A handful of moments, I wished I could change,_  
 _And a tongue like a nightmare, that cut like a blade._

 He picked a good song for his voice. You can’t hear any strain in it at all. You almost wish you know the words, so you could mouth them along with him, but you don’t. Trying to ignore the way your heart pounds in your ears, you do your best to focus on the words. There’s a reason he picked this song. He is full of reasons for shit, the little drama queen. 

  _In a city of fools, I was careful and cool,_  
 _But they tore me apart, like a hurricane._  
 _A handful of moments, I wished I could change,_  
 _But I was carried away._

It doesn’t take you long at all--forty seconds in fact-- to figure out _why_ he chose this song. Sad shit like this draws him in, the little emo kid. Poetry and romance are weak points, no matter how much he denies it. But even worse than that is anything that reminded him of himself. He was so absolutely arrogant and egotistical.

  _Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_  
 _But I'm smiling at everything._

 Your eyes snap open as your toes curl the first moment he hits that higher pitch. You have to actually think about closing your eyes again, not wanting to see or focus on anything other than his voice. One hand lifts up to touch your headphone, press it closer over your ears.

  _Therapy, you were never a friend to me,_  
 _And you can keep all your misery._

 The emotion that he pours into the song makes your heart break. You are grateful for the momentary silence of his powerful voice, even if it’s only ten seconds, because you’re struggling to get your breath back. That warmth in your veins has spread to just about everywhere, and you are absolutely certain your cheeks are more red than you could ever live with in public.

  _My lungs gave out, as I faced the crowd._  
 _I think that keeping this up could be dangerous._  
 _I'm flesh and bone, I'm a rolling stone,_  
 _And the experts say I'm delirious._

 When you finally suck in a breath, you realize that you’ve been biting your lower lip and it fucking _aches_. You can feel your heartbeat in the ache, though, and somehow that makes all this even better. As his voice builds you lean back in your chair, head tilting back because you know music, you know what comes next. Its all a pattern and you want to hear the pattern fall from Eridan’s lips for the rest of your life.

  _Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_  
 _But I'm smiling at everything._  
 _Therapy, you were never a friend to me,_  
 _You can take back your misery._

The sudden acapella of his voice--five seconds away from two minutes and even though it only lasts five seconds-- startles you. His voice is so _clear_ , so emotional. This song is _him_ you can hear how much he believes that. You didn’t think he could ever make your heart hurt more than it already does but the soft, pained sound you give at his expense would say otherwise.

 Just as you knew he would, he uses the chorus to bring in more energy, to carry him into--

  **oh--**

_Arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to._

**Oh.**

_They're better off without you._

**Hell.**

_Arrogant boy, cause a scene like you're supposed to._

**Fucking.**

_They'll fall asleep without you._

**No.**

_You're lucky if your memory remains._

**Eridan.**

That’s it. You hate your stupid, annoyingly emotional little boyfriend. Why the hell did he have to pick _this_ song? Forget coping his ass you are going to punch him in the face for all these feelings he’s cramming down your throat. That _asshole_.

  _Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_

_But I'm smiling at everything._  
 _Therapy, you were never a friend to me,_  
 _You can take back your misery._

Your hands are tight fists as you listen to the end. One chorus will bleed into another, you know that’s how it will end- there isn’t any other way it could- but that doesn’t stop Eridan from pouring himself into the song like it’s the last thing he’ll be able to say in his life.

_Therapy, I'm a walking travesty,_  
 _But I'm smiling at everything._  
 _Therapy, you were never a friend to me,_  
 _You can choke on your misery._

 

The last of the song fades with his guitar and the tension finally, _finally_ eases out of your shoulders when all of a sudden you realize the recording is still going.

 There’s the sound of his breathing, deep, quick, showing how the song pulled from him physically. But he’s breathing, and in the silence of your headphones and behind the darkness of your eyelids your whole world consists of his breath. You’re biting your lip again and goosebumps rise on your skin when you hear his soft chuckle.

  _“I know I was just supposed to send you a song so, I guess this is the bonus part of it, huh? Surprise, surprise I can’t just let it go without giwin’ you my extra two cents.”_ He laughs again, a little more strongly, more loudly, and you’re smiling too because god he’s so infectious, like a horrible drama disease. You’d roll your eyes at him but he’s still talking and you’re still trapped under the force of his voice. Damn him and his larynx. Also, what the hell is with that double-you V replacement.

  _“The easiest part of this message was the song, actually. I just couldn’t decide what to say afterwards, you know, how to kind of wrap this little weird gift for you. So uh, well I guess here it goes,”_ He takes in a deep breath. You mimic the action, hands on your earphones just in case he decides to get all coy and quiet about it. He doesn’t.

  _“You make me happy. Like, really, really happy. Like happy in a way I figured I wasn’t ever goin’ to feel, or at least not while I was a fuckin’ teenager. Sometimes I’ll be smilin’ and I won’t ewen realize it, but somebody will say somethin’ and haha, suddenly I’m just grinnin’ like an absolute tool because I’m thinkin’ about how lucky I am and all that shit, knowin’ you, and hawin’ you as a boyfriend.”_  Hello again, you think to your blush, welcome to your new home. Are you comfortable? Shall we continue listening to the adorable boyfriend?

 Of course, says your blush, no need to go now, in fact I’m pretty sure I can spread to your ears and neck, just you wait and see.

 Great, just great. You sigh a little and continue listening to the prick. _“Ewen the shitty part about us bein’ opposite sides of the planet or whatewer pales in comparison to knowin’ I hawe you, wherewer you are. And uh,”_ he clears his throat. You imagine him fiddling with his scarf, tugging on it like he says he does sometimes. _“Well, I lowe you, Dawe. A lot. Like really, really a lot. God, I hope you like this song and this whole message and this whole **ewerythin’**. I hope you actually really like me too.”_

He goes quiet after saying that. Just breathing, probably fidgeting. You wonder where he recorded this. In his room? His bathroom? Does he have somewhere special he goes to play his music? God, how often does he practice the guitar? You smile slightly as he finishes with, _“Send me back some good music, Dawey boy,_ ” You can hear the teasing in his tone, _“You’re the king of the records, aren’t you? So do it. Impress me, coolkid.”_ Then he fucking **laughs** and you kind of lose your shit, getting shivers right down your spine and to the groin.

 Fuck.

 You have a weakness and it is his golden pipes. You are definitely going to keep that a secret for as long as you can. The fucker will no doubt figure it out and use it against you, but until he does you are one hundred percent behind the plan of keeping him in the dark for as long as you can.

 With the recording actually finished, you sit in silence for a while, compiling your thoughts. You’re still warm and you want to listen to it again- and again after that. You want to thoroughly memorize his voice. Plus, it’s getting pretty late now.

 Quickly, you dump Eridan’s song onto your ipod and then unplug from the computer. You shut it down, gather up your player and hurry over to flick off the lights. On your way back over to your bed, You shed your pants and shirt, tossing the latter over your shoulder into the filthy darkness that is your teenager bedroom. Sliding into bed, you shift onto your back in that one spot that gives you the most comfort and get yourself situated.

 You turn his song on repeat, because mostly naked in your bed in the dark you, Dave Strider, have no shame or regrets.

 Resting your ipod on your chest, you close your eyes and fall into the recording again. His breath catches you even more powerfully now than it did before and you lick your bitten lower lip as your fingers run down your sides and to your hips. For one  moment, you are very perfectly aware that these are your own hands moving down your body with one very obvious intent-- but then he starts singing.

 That’s when it gets good. You forget you’re alone, that you’ve never even seen his face. You imagine his hands, you don’t really even need a face at all, just his hands on you and that voice in your ears, singing to _you_ , singing _for_ you.

 His fingertips slide under the waistband of your boxers. They push down the fabric, as you arch your hips up, and you exhale softly as his fingers reach down and rub down at your hips. As you wriggle out of your boxers, keeping the cloth handy, you twist onto your side and curl up, to give ~~your~~ his hands better access.

 Nails scratch lightly at your thighs, and you thank god silently for the headphones, for the music, that blocks out all your sounds. He makes you so weak, so vulnerable, but that’s the last way you want to appear. So you do your best to swallow your moans and soft whimpers as calloused palms slide teasingly over your inner thighs and then finally- _fucking finally-_ over your cock. He’s a tease and an asshole but his hands on you are something you want more than pretty much anything now.

 You push your hips into the touch, groaning as he wraps one hand around you, the other teasingly light along your inner thighs. The song itself has ended, but his breath, his words, the raw sound of his voice crackles over your skin and you start thrusting into his hand.

 You’re probably saying his name now, no wait, scratch that, you are definitely saying his name. You’re loud enough that in the breathy silence just after his laughter, just before the song restarts, you can hear yourself moaning. His hand moves faster and faster over you, and in your head you can hear his breathing, his laughter, as though he’s looking down at you  now, telling you how happy you make him, touching you and needing you and singing to you again and again.

 Your body is on fire, your skin slick with sweat that drips from your face and you can’t manage to catch your breath but you try, oh you try so hard, because you want him to know what he’s doing to you, so that when you orgasm, shaking and tensing the whole time, you cry out his name with your face pressed into your pillow so hard your glasses dig into your forehead.

 The cool-down is slow, and involves the disgusting business of cleaning yourself up with your boxers and tugging your glasses from under your headphones. It also involves stretching out on your back with the volume turned low on the ipod and smiling to yourself as you listen again. You are never going to get sick of this voice...

 In moments you are drifting off to sleep smiling and with his voice echoing in your ears. 


	2. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is invited to a party by his friends and even when Eridan asks him to stay online to talk with him, he is taken by his friends to go out. At the party he meets love interests of his friends, a sister of a friend and one Princess he cannot deal with sober. Then, when he least expected it, he meets his prince- once thought to be so distant, and now so very close.

CA: davve  
CA: davve are you on  
CA: fuckin hell wwhy are you signed on if you are not fuckin on wwhat evven you are a bastard  
CA: get on  
CA: noww right noww  
CA: davve i am fuckin orderin you  
CA: wwhere are you  
CA: right noww right noww  
CA: ugh seriously  
CA: you havve got to stop doin this  
CA: wwhere are you  
TG: woah woah woah there baby  
TG: what is going on what has you all flailing like a beached squid  
CA: wwhat are you doin tonight  
CA: and i aint no squid you asshole  
TG: well im actually headed out right now i just turned on the computer to start up a torrent while i was gone  
TG: why  
CA: i need a reason to stay home any reason at all evven a stupid one like stayin home to chat on the internet  
TG: what  
TG: talking to me is stupid  
CA: ITS NOT STUPID TO ME  
CA: its stupid to other people but enougha an excuse to keep me from goin out to this shitty party!  
TG: dude i cant i have plans  
TG: i told you earlier rose and john and jade and i are goin out to this whatever thing that is johns secret manbuddys thing or whatever i dont even fucking know  
CA: bail! please! stay home wwith me  
CA: i dont wwant to go out wwith these people  
TG: why did you say you would  
CA: because i figured i wwould get outta it!  
TG: stupid  
CA: fuck you davve!  
TG: maybe tomorrow i have a thing to finish dressing for  
CA: wwhat  
CA: finish  
CA: wwhat are you wwearin  
TG: haha eridan i know what youre doing and no we are not playing this game  
TG: i am not going to delay my swagification  
TG: to appease your coincidental perversion  
TG: not happening  
CA: cmon davve  
CA: i wwill tell you wwhat im wwearin  
CA: and i swwear it isnt much already i wwas gettin ready too you knoww  
TG: then finish getting ready  
CA: so wwhat are you wwearin out  
CA: im wwearin skinny jeans  
TG: fucking  
TG: eridarling no  
CA: you knoww wwhat these jeans do  
CA: make my ass fuckin choice  
TG: do you see what you are doing  
TG: using sex to get me to bend to your will!  
CA: its wworkin isnt it  
CA: so wwhat pants are you in  
TG: just some pants  
TG: a little scraped up from strifing i guess but really  
CA: wwait do they showw a little of your knees underneath  
TG: well more like the thighs but yeah whatever  
CA: fuckin lovve that  
CA: wwhat about a belt for that?  
TG: ive got one of my bros old belts  
TG: its got this belt buckle its kind of yellowed and red but its bitching  
TG: its a rooster with the words cocky in front of it  
CA: yes  
CA: absolutely fuckin yes  
CA: that is fuckin  
CA: perfect for you i dont havve the wwords  
CA: but i dont really need them to appropriately respond to that kind of suggestion noww do i  
TG: hey now  
TG: i am thinking youre getting a little ahead of yourself  
TG: not that i really mind but i have the thing  
CA: forget the thing  
CA: wwe can do anythin else tonight  
CA: just stay wwith me

You are pretty sure your fingers are frozen in place, hovering over the keys. How are you supposed to respond to something like that? You made a promise to your bros. They had been planning this thing for a while. It was a huge deal you knew kids from at least three school districts were going, it was going to be at some rich bitch’s house and there was a 99.9999% chance of alcohol to be there. You didn’t want to tell all that to Eridan because he would flip his shit. It’s bad enough that you can’t go together to these things, but all he would think about would be drunk bitches all up in your space and you’d be spending the next week talking him out of alternating jealousy and I just fucking knew it I’m not good enough for you’s.

You had gone through that before, it was a bitch to do and you almost, almost, said fuck it and given up on him and you. Sticking it out had been a good decision, though, you guess, because no one could be as begrudgingly apologetic and adorable as he could be. It had been an interesting weekend.

CA: davve?  
CA: are you there still?

Right, okay, back to the present. You have to deal with this.

TG: im here  
TG: i was just thinking  
CA: think about this  
CA: moms back in towwn and wwell  
CA: she and dad are goin to be out for a couple of hours  
CA: wwith them gone  
CA: and if you stay  
CA: maybe wwe could test out the wwebcam ivve got

Holy shit. Holy shit. You have been hinting, dancing around the subject of webcams- because of said twitchy parents- and after the audio track he sent you, you are more than ready to see the hands and face that goes with that glorious voice.

Licking your lips you begin typing out your assent when the door to your room bursts open and in comes John, looking like a weird cross between one of his dad’s suits and something Rose probably helped him get into including a stupid weird-green bowtie (what. even.), followed by Rose in a dark blue short dress and Jade in a spunky short skirt and vested top of sparkly dark purple. “Fuck,” you breathe out.

“That is not how to greet your bro!” John declares, “And why aren’t you ready? We’re going to be late! Where are your clothes Dave?”

In horror you stare as he begins to rummage around with Rose’s help and Jade comes bouncing over to you, all big smiles and green eyes, “Who are you chatting with?”

Your soon to be heartbroken boyfriend, you think to yourself as you backspace through your words and type out a different reply than you wanted to.

TG: dork brigade plus the spunky snarky broad is here  
TG: i couldnt stay even if i want to  
CA: …  
TG: and i really  
TG: really want to

“Awww, Dave!” Jade hugs your face to her chest. You grunt as your temple is smooshed into her breasts. Not exactly what you want to be doing now. You’re thinking about where you put your headset with the mic because webcamming for the first time is winning out on the things you want to do tonight.

“Jade, fuck off for a moment.” You hate how upset you sound but fuck it’s hard not to be at this point. She gives you a sympathetic pat to the head and goes to help Rose and John find you something. Sighing heavily, you feel a weight settle over your shoulders as you write out the next words.

TG: why dont you go out to your party thing  
TG: try to have a good time?  
CA: fine  
TG: eribabe  
CA: are you goin to ask me if im okay  
CA: beacuse im fuckin okay davve  
CA: i havve nevver been any fuckin better in my wwhole fuckin life  
CA: this right here marks the best fuckin day of my life  
TG: damnit eridan  
TG: i promised them i would go  
TG: and you told those others you would go  
TG: so just go!  
CA: fine i wwill!  
CA: you didnt evven ask me wwhy i didnt wwant to go you asshole!  
TG: ugh eridan we can talk afterwards okay?  
TG: ill get on when i get back home  
TG: I promise  
CA: sure  
CA: wwhatevver  
CA: i cant say the same for myself  
CA: bye  
TG: eri

\--caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG]--

TG: dammit

You twist around in your seat. Your friends look over at you at the sudden movement. John’s smile falters at the look on your face. Jade’s pouting and Rose, well, Rose is calculating as always.

Taking a deep breath, you look to your fellow blonde and ask, “Your older sister is going to be there, right.”

She arches an eyebrow, “Roxy?”

“Yeah.” You can see her shifting around her thoughts, trying to figure out what you are intending even before you say a word more. She gives a slight frown and sighs.

“It seems Dave will not be our designated driver tonight. John, will you be willing?” She gives one of her little smiles and he shrugs. Then she holds out a red shirt to you and you get up from your chair, not before signing out though. Fuck his dramatic bull shit. You have a group of friends to go party with and somewhere out there is a bottle of Roxy’s rum with your name on it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time that the four of you get there, everything is already in full swing. And holy hell is this place enormous. First of all, the actual house is gated off on its own from the rest of the street, the rest of everything ever, with stone walls and hedges around the whole property. Then, once you’re inside the gates the house rises out of the top of a hill like a fucking castle, all buttresses and columns and archways and shit. There are cars up and down the whole driveway, and people are _everywhere_. As John parks in the grass out of the way, you look to the others, who are pretty damn excited to be there.

“So what exactly is going on?”

John’s smile grows broader still and he says, “Why don’t you explain on our way in Rose?” He starts getting out of the car while you look to Rose. She just smiles, ever so faintly, and says, “We’re all meeting dates tonight.”

“Dates.” You feel your stomach clench and for a moment your veins feel like ice. But it thaws pretty quick. They know about Eridan, well, sort of. They know you have someone. They know he’s a guy. They know you don’t know his face, and he’s begged you not to tell them who he is -goddamn you hate the control his parents have over him, holy _shit_ \- so you call him “Airy” to your friends, which is close enough anyway. They know you talk to him a lot and you thought everything was fine about it but now they’re doing this? They had better only be talking about themselves.

Getting out of the car with your friends, you frown as Jade goes over and throws an arm around you. Girl can _not_ keep her hands off of anyone. She puts her other arm around John’s broad shoulders and says, “Yeah! Dates! John’s friend got him a date with some girl and you remember that clown guy I ran into at the store the other day? He’s going to be here too, so he’s my date and-”

“I have my mysterious date as well,” Rose murmured from your other side, giving you a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. The blue eyeshadow she has on really does bring out the deviousness in her gaze. “So we decided one more mysterious date wouldn’t hurt, now would it? It’s just one night, Dave.”

“Yeah, plus my buddy says she’s a really, _really_ nice girl! She’s a cheerleader and bakes like my sister, bringing cookies to lunch and even homemade bread and stuff! Besides, this is her place.” John gestures to the house in front of them. You give a short laugh.

“Haha, like I want to date miss princess-bakes-a-lot. I’m not even interested in girls like that.” You aren’t interested in anyone besides your boyfriend right now. You’d like to keep it that way.

“That’s why it’s the perfect date!” Jade declares, “It’s between friends, nothing more!”

“No.” You have got to nip this in the bud. You will not spend your night here dragged around by the wrist by some bubbly little bitch. “Absolutely not.” You could be at home, on webcam, talking to Eridan. Shit, you _should_ be on the webcam with him!

“You don’t have to call it a date,” Rose said, “Technically it will be a hostess showing around a particular guest. We won’t be available the whole night, Dave and we would like to ensure you won’t become lonesome and hotwire John’s car to go home.”

“I did that _once_ ,” You protest while Jade giggles, “And if you had been able to hotwire a car too I am sure you would have done it too.” Now John is laughing too, even though you distinctly remember how upset his father had been with that. But you were a reasonable bro, you had taken care of it and smoothed everything over with Dadbert. You don’t regret one second of that whole night. Except for the actually going to the “underground movie viewing” part.

The gravel crunches underfoot as the four of you make your way up the driveway to the front door. John bounds ahead of you, knocking on the door enthusiastically as the rest of you head up the steps. Even the front door is impressive, a dark wood with gold doorknobs and, is that? why yes it is, stained glass paneling around the door. In the shapes of different fish. How cute.

The door opens and John waves the rest of you inside. The inside of the house is just as resplendent as the outside, if not more so. Tiled floors with rugs and high ceilings with intricate moldings. Wow, this birthday girl was one rich chick. You can see through one doorway is an enormous pile of shimmering gifts and through the other is a dining room buffet table laden with food.

There are people _everywhere_ ; crowding the hallway, dining room and what little you can see of the stairway to the second floor. The only thing that seems out of place is this table right near the front door with a stack of nametags and a bunch of markers. Oh joy.

It’s about then that this guy comes walking up towards you, this girl in a green dress in tow, and greets you four by shouting, “There you are! What the hell took you so long? I have seen one legged dogs come bounding up to their masters with more punctuality than you!” He looked John over and then added, “At least you have the dog tied for enthusiasm.”

John wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes were on the girl behind shouty. She shyly looked past him, lifting one hand to give a little wiggle of her fingers and then a bright smile. She was kind of cute, with her big green eyes and short, shoulder length hair. You arch an eyebrow to Jade, who giggles.

“So, John,” you drawl, “Going to introduce us to your date or what?”

Suddenly little miss shy skirt isn’t so shy anymore. She rushes past her shouty friend, who is arms crossed and smug looking, and runs up to stand in front of you, hands on her hips. “Just you go and forget all those real names! Tonight is a special night! Everyone gets a title, see?” she points to the sticker nametag on her chest that says _Huntress =^w^=_.

“Huh,” you reply. “Everyone gets a title?”

“Yup!” she winks and it’s so weirdly like one of Dirk’s anime girls it gives you a shudder. “Lords, ladies and knights! There are a few exceptions like me, but no one is royalty except our Princess Coral!”

Rose steps up beside you and holds out a sticker, “I took the liberty of making one for you.” She has an amused look as she holds out the sticker that says _Sir Clockwork_ in orange. Of course she would. On her own sticker she has _Lady Light._

Huntress then says, “Just like that! So you’re a knight as well, Sir Clockwork? My good friend is too!” She grabs shouty’s arm and drags him half a step closer. He doesn’t budge far. “He is Sir Plasma!”

“Nice.” You say without enthusiasm. This party is just getting more and more interesting, isn’t it? John’s getting his nametag too, then, as _Sky Lord_ and Jade proudly shows her tag as _Lady Stars ;)._  You sigh and put the tag on.

As you do, Plasma says, “Alright, Sky Lord,” he snorts, “I brought Huntress,” eyeroll, “here along to do more than give a tutorial on how to be an idiot. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

John has this thing he does, when he gets suddenly aware that the situation he’s in could be very, very embarrassing. His eyes go wide and his cheeks turn red and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. It’s nervous, fidgety and somewhat adorable, and one of those things that was a hallmarker for you when you were figuring out the ‘oh hey who would I like to make out with, given a choice of my three best friends?’. You always imagined Eridan to be twitchy like that. You really, really hope he’s kind of twitchy. You find it cute like others do puppies.

So John does his _this is possibly embarrassing!!!_ twitchiness and Huntress looks him up and down and then literally squeals for joy and runs up and throws her arms around his shoulder. “You’re even more adorable than Sir Plasma told me!” She rubs her face against his and then plants a kiss right on the mouth. You could wipe away a single manly tear for your best bro. Losing his first kiss to an insane girl he’s only known for five minutes. God bless him.

“Hey what’s going on motherfuckers?” Is heard from one side while on the other is, “Did I hear a catgirl screaming or have I finally gone deaf?” From the first side comes this all knees and elbows weird-ass kid in honest-to-god facepaint and Jade just goes waltzing up to him, eyelashes fluttering. You look away as she offers her hand and he just pulls her into this all-encompassing hug. His tag says _The Jester :o)_ on it.

On the other side is a pair of long haired girls, the one who spoke had a buzz cut to one side of her head while the other side had long blue-black hair down past her shoulder, and a series of earrings right up the side of the exposed ear. She wore a skirt over holey tights and a one sleeved shirt. It was themed in purple. Rose’s favorite color purple, actually. Her name tag said _She-Spider_.

The other girl is so obviously the birthday princess whatever that it kind of makes you sick. Her hair is in curls and loops, piled up on her head like this is prom, complete with a sparkling tiara that looks like it might actually be legitimate. Her dress is a bright magenta, also sparkling, and poofy too. Not so horribly poofy no one could stand next to her, but you could see this on a disney princess without any problem at all. Predictably, her nametag says _Princess Coral._

Spider girl goes over to Rose, takes her hand, kisses it, then kisses her cheeks and then grabs her and dips her, kissing her on the lips. Righting Rose again, she grins and declares, “I think I greeted you in all appropriate forms, haven’t I?”

Rose arches an eyebrow, unperturbed of course, and says, “With tonight’s theme I would have thought you would wear bright red as Lady Luck.”

“If I had known before hand, I most certainly would have,” Spider says.

About then you realize that Princess Coral is the only one there besides you who isn’t talking to anyone (with Sir Plasma absconding the fuck outta dodge) and so you look to her. She’s pretty enough, you guess, and there could be worse ways of spending this party. You step up to her and say, “Princess Coral?”

She flutters her lashes and then laughs. It’s bright, and kind of disgustingly cute. She holds out her hand to you and you take it and just barely touch your lips to her gloved hand. You’re pretty sure that’s real silk there too. “Why it’s a pleasure Sir Clockwork. Tell me, are you meeting anyone special at my ball?”

She’s still got ahold of your hand and she’s giving you the coyest look you have ever received and you get the distinct impression that whatever your friends thought, this girl is interested in _something_. “Unfortunately not,” you reply and before she can get any ideas in her head you add, “my boyfriend couldn’t make it, I’m afraid.” There’s a flicker of something across her face but then she smiles widely.

“Oh I see!” She puts her arm around yours and says, “Why don’t I show you around then, my good knight?” You look to your friends. Jade’s vanished and Rose stands close to Spider, arm in arm and talking softly while her date laughs loud and shamelessly. John is blushing, still with Huntress draped around his shoulders, and completely distracted.

“Alright, so where to first?”

She tugs you along down the hall and says, “To the Lady of the Cabinet of course!”

Lady of the Cabinet. Of course! What were you thinking.

So it turns out Lady of the Cabinet is none other than Roxy, Rose’s college-age sister. And she’s lounging against the bar with a martini glass in one hand and a phone in the other. When you and Princess whatsit come into the room, she looks up and goes from her puckered thoughtful pout to a broad drunk smile. “Baby!” She coos, sipping the drink and sliding from the stool. She comes stumbling over and puts an arm around your shoulders, giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Little baby boy what are you doin’ here?” She laughs and winks to you.

“It’s a party. How could it be worth anything if a Strider doesn’t show up?” You reply and she laughs and laughs. Princess girl rolls her eyes at your comment. 

Roxy pulls away and saunters over to her collection of bottles, “What can the wizard of elixirs, brew up for you tonight?” She does another wink and you gesture for Princess to go first.

With a smile and a flutter of lashes, you notice now that they’re painted a bright pink like her dress, she goes over and peruses the bottles herself. Roxy gives a little shrug and drinks from her glass, texting one handed idly. You go up onto her other side and say, “Since Princess is picking something out for us both, why don’t you tell me what you’re up to at a highschool party?”

“Lol, kid, what’re _you_ doin’ here?” She slurs her words together. It’s almost like you can hear the text speak in her voice. You’d suggest maybe she spend less time online chatting, but you’re pretty sure she’s either talking to your bro Dirk or Janey who’s off at culinary school. No way are you going to be the cause of Dirk not getting his two cents in with his best friend. He’d come stateside just to kick your ass again.

“Being a knight, the fourth wheel and generally awesome,” you reply. Princess is looking over two bottles now, one clear and the other red frosted glass. She looks up at you two and smiles slightly.

“His own date bailed,” Princess says, putting the clear bottle back down.

You don’t wince. You do tense, though, and Roxy’s bright eyes slide away from you over to Princess Bitch. She takes a sip from her martini and they says, “Oh? Who would bail on my little knight here?”

“Don’t know,” Princess says with a casual shrug, like it doesn’t matter.

Roxy looks back at you, eyebrows up and says, “Huh. Really? Who would cancel on a Strider knight?” She has her thumb poised over the keypad of her phone, her glass set on the table and she’s watching you carefully. There’s the calculating Lalonde look. They have the patent for it, passed down from mother to daughter. (As far as you know each Lalonde is cultivated in a special garden, nothing but science and weird wizard shenanigans involved, or so Rose has informed you. You believe that shit one hundred percent.)

“Not cancel,” you say with an edge to your voice, “Simply unavailable.” If you could have brought him with you, you would have in a heartbeat. But space and distance wasn’t something you really had the capability to say ‘fuck it’ to and bring him anyway.

Princess rolls her eyes and the only reason you don’t call her out on it is because Roxy puts her arm around you and smooshes your cheek against hers. “Poor baby! Maybe they’ll make it to the next party?”

You can see over Roxy’s shoulder Princess raising her gaze to you. She arches an eyebrow and mouths the word, _they?_ , and you glare at her and say nothing back. So you don’t exactly want to tell Roxy about your boyfriend. She would undoubtedly tell Dirk who wouldn’t really think less of you, but possibly harass you because he was your brother. You were pretty much one of the last hopes of the Strider line continuing via heterosexual entanglements. And now that was a future in danger.

It wasn’t something you enjoyed thinking about, because it also entertained the idea that your romance with Eridan could at some point falter. You were young. You were very keen on the idea that the two of you would be together forever. It was a very hopeful, kind of romantic thought you didn’t admit you had (even to Eridan). “Yeah,” you finally reply to Roxy, “Maybe they will. Definitely plenty of parties like this one to go around anyway.”

You ignore the way the Princess glares at you for saying her party is like any other.

Roxy laughs and pulls back, but not after planting a kiss on your cheek. “I know Rosie is out and about somewhere, will you make sure a darling sister will come and visit me and not send a little minion to do so?”

You nod, “Can do.”

That’s when Princess clears her throat and says, “Thank you for monitoring the liquor, Lady Roxy, but I’ll be leaving with my knight now.” She gestures for you to come over and you shrug.

With a wave from Roxy, the two of you head out from the kitchen again. “So, not telling her you’ve got a boyfriend, hmmm?” She says nonchalantly as she loops one of her arms through yours, the other holding her bottle of alcohol like a child.

You shove your hands in your pockets to keep from tearing her off your arm. She is just getting more and more on your nerves with her sugar-coated bitchiness. “Everything in due time, Princess.”

“Right. For now, open this.” She hands you the bottle. “And stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You watch her hurry off to chat with some kids a way off before getting the bottle open. After some work on the goddamn lid, you get the booze open and look around for a cup or two. She eventually comes back and she holds out the glasses. “Pour me a drink, my knight. We have many subjects yet to greet.”

Pouring the drink, you question the intelligence of drinking straight booze with a total stranger but ultimately decide to fuck it. There is no way you are going to be able to stand the company of this bitch if you don’t get drunk. So you pour and then you drink and you let her put her arm around yours again to lead you away.

It is good booze, at least as far as you can tell, so perhaps this night out won’t be as shit-tastic as you believed before.

Even with the strange and sometimes ungodly amounts of money that Bro seems to rake in with his questionable website actions, you have never had to suffer through the parties of the rich kids. It wasn’t your style. Hell, it wasn’t _any_ Strider’s style to have parties with enough guests to fill a Facebook friend list and enough food, decorations and booze to satisfy the needs of three separate bridezillas.

The crowd of guests seems to be never ending, and the two of you move from one cluster to the next. After the first group, Princess Bitch puts you on liquor duty. You refill her cup, and yours, and anyone else’s that she gestures you to do. She drags you around by the arm, and the only time she isn’t holding tightly onto you, her designated protector-knight, is when she’s draped over some other party-goer. She’s handsy, this one, patting faces and putting her arms around their shoulders and kissing cheeks.

You can see the appeal of her, she’s chatty and curious and even when her words begin to slur a little she’s good at making people feel like she really cares about the shit they say. There is no way you could fake so many smiles, so much interest in so many idiotic drunks. No wonder she has so many people willing to show up and drink her booze and give her presents. The brief moments when she makes a cutting remark or laughs right over someone’s words are few and far between, spaced between different people and different rooms but you-

Even though you’re drunk, or getting there bit by bit, you see her tear down other girls, and flirt with boys, and push and pull the dynamics around her. And then, when she’s done something particularly clever, she’ll look at you with her bright eyes as if sharing the moment with you. As if you’re sharing these little backhanded compliments.

You cut back on drinking because you’re beginning to feel sick to your stomach. This wasn’t quite what you expected when you thought you’d go to a party and get drunk as fuck. You think about Eridan as she hugs onto your arm again and waves her hand, calling to someone across the room.

Turns out the someone is She-Spider and none other than your tipsy friend Lady Light. They come through the crowd and your friend’s date pulls on Princess’s arm and says in what was probably supposed to be a whisper, “Coral, baby, _he_ showed up!”

“Wait, wait, who?”

Spider chick laughs slightly nasally way and you cringe. You look to Rose who is sipping her drink very slightly, one arm across her chest, holding the other one up as she sips from the glass. She looks slightly smug and quite amused.

“Prince Dramabutt!” Spider crows, laughing and pulling on Princess’s arm some more. Coral still doesn’t let go of you so it takes Rose’s intervention- “Why don’t you two talk and let me catch Sir Clockwork up to speed?”- to get the birthday girl off your arm.

You hold up the bottle, “Want a little to top you off there, my lady? Or are you suitably sloshed enough to spill the details?”

“I will be fine without your needlessly strong liquor, sir knight.” She turns the glass away a bit and her smile grows broader. “The boy that my lovely date is talking about is apparently some previous ex-friend of both hers and our lovely hostess. He was invited, of course, but apparently it was only to be polite. Everyone assumed that he would either show up to crash the party if not invited. Either that or he would appear and I quote ‘wibble and weep his way to get Princess to forgive him for one night and then end up drunk as fuck and choke himself to death with his cape’.”

“Wait a second,” you hold up a hand, your mind reeling at this new information, “A cape? Where do you get a cape in this joint and why don’t I have one? I am a _knight_ after all.”

She snorted and leaned in, doing that conspiratorial whisper everyone seems in the mood for tonight, “He showed up in his own cape, Dave. His. Own. Cape. He owns them, multiple capes. _Real_ capes that are not blankets or sheets tied together around his neck. These have little metal clasps and they are actually tailored for him.”

You laugh. You can’t help but laugh, “What the hell? Does he LARP or something? Is he a Renaissance fair kind of guy?”

“Apparently. Also, points to you for knowing what that is. I had no idea you had a taste for the medieval! Are you hoarding any other knightly secrets from me, my dear friend?” She arches an eyebrow at you.

You know about it because Eridan knows about it and all last October he would _not_ shut up about it. Some google searching had led you to some fucking terrible costumes, but he had assured you his was fantastic. Hand stitched, he said, fit him like a glove. Damn, if you were on webcam now maybe you could have gotten him to show you... “Of course not. Certainly out of the four of us, John would be the cape wearer, not I. Or you maybe.”

Her other eyebrow rises in offense, “Me? Why on earth would you ever suspect me of such a fashion fiasco?”

“Hello, are you, or are you not miss Queen of the Stage. All you theater junkies have secret capes tucked away in your closets, you don’t have to hide your shame from me, my dear Lady of the Light.”

She scoffs at you, waving her drink in your direction in a way that reminds of you of Roxy. “Oh please. My purpose in the theater is to make all the little boys and girls dance to my beautifully scripted out plays, to make them all follow their lines I’ve written for them. It is not to prance about in a purple prissy cape like a self-proclaimed prince of poncedom!”

A smirk cuts across your features. You would give her the slow clap if not for the bottle in your hands, “Drunken alliteration, go you. No one defeats Lady Rose, even when she’s drunk as a skunk.”

She frowns at the simile but replies, “Being drunk is no excuse for improper prose.”

“Or perfectly poise poetry and rhyme, I see.”

“Haha, Dave, haha.” She sips her drink and you can feel the subject change in the way she looks at you, not conceding in your wordplay, but becoming bored with it. That’s the thing about Rose, in those few times you’ve seen her drink. She gets bored quickly, and is eager to switch to the next topic, the next thing to find out and pick apart and consider. She wants that fresh subject to keep herself entertained. “How is being the knight of her royal coral-ness? I was considering being a knight as well because Lady Light is a lovely little title but Sir Light is also quite appealing as well as befuddling of the masses and their ideas of gender roles.” She pauses a moment and adds with a wink, “And I’ve heard some Spider ladies have a fondness for those bitching warrior lady-knights, if I am to quote someone anonymously.”

“Rose, just how much have you had to drink anyway?” You shake your head. “For one thing, I’m hardly a knight,” you lift the bottle, “I am just her royal booze holder. Though for the way she spreads it around we will need to head back to Rox at any moment now.” You shake it, just for good measure. “For another, Princess Coral is about as underhanded and vicious as I expect someone with the name She-Spider to be. She’s a total bitch, just with a slather of sparkles and ruffles on.”

“Rude. She’s the hostess.”

“She’s also a bitch. It is possible to be both.”

“And who exactly _isn’t_ a bitch, hm?” She arches an eyebrow, “Since you seem to think both our delightful hostess and her friend and my date are falling into that category.”

“That one chick, John’s date, was, as Dirk would say ‘fucking kawaii’ and hardly at all bitchy. You know that you can turn on the bitchiness like it was a light switch and I’ve seen Jade chew someone’s ass off, okay. And don’t even get me started on the way John can bitch at me about his movies and other shit.” You give a one shoulder shrug, “As far as I can tell, all around me for miles are bitches. Miles and miles of bitches.”

“Oh my. Miles of bitches?” Her tone is as dry as the Sahara, even though she paused to drink from a glass that most decidedly wasn’t dry yet. “How interesting, please tell me more about how you, a lone man of self-proclaimed awesome, stay alive while surrounded by all these bitches.”

“I’m a Strider. There never was a question of me surviving the bitch-pocalypse, just a matter of how long it is until I become ruler.”

“And just yesterday I remember you being my virtuous young knight,” she pretended to wipe away a tear. Then something, or rather, someone, caught her eye. She glanced to the side and then smiled back at you, “It seems my blackwidow is finished informing your Pretty Princess Partner all about the other pretentious royal party-goer and is now ready to pull me into her web infested cave and suck out my liquified innards. Tata, Dave.”

“Thank you so much for that image rose,” You grimace as Spider comes over and puts her arm around your friend, “If it is possible to be so turned off it goes negative, you have managed it. Congratulations.” As she was getting pulled away, you added a little louder, “Have fun with Spiderbitch!”

You hear Rose’s laughter as she fades back into the crowd.

Princess Perfect is standing off to the side, her fingers tapping along her bottom lip as she thinks. Her brows are furrowed together and as you step up to her side she gives this little sigh and then turns her gaze on you. She has a full pout engaged, complete with big shining eyes. She reaches over and plays a bit with the collar of your shirt and you wonder if she remembers the part where you have a boyfriend and you are not interested in her.

You make a mental note to tell your friends that “a date between friends” only works if both of you are aware that it’s between friends and nothing more. For all that she annoys you, upsetting Princess at her own birthday party by having to turn her down is really not something you want to do. Almost afraid to ask, you say after some silence, with her hand still toying at your collar, “Something wrong, your grace?”

She looks up at your face and god, that pout. She must have gotten ponies from parents, cookies from relatives, hell, you bet she even got her best friend’s treasured whatever-it-was with a look like that. For a moment you think about how you, single you, would fair against a look like that. You wonder if Eridan has a pout like that, and how it would affect you. Petulantly, she pats your chest and says, “I was thinking that now that we had finished saying hello to everyone we could do more fun things!” She gives just a little giggle, “But it seems like I have to go deal with the King of Drama. Ugh. He can be really dramatic about, well, everything! I don’t know where he could have run off to, She-Spider said he flipped her off and high-tailed it outta the kitchen so he could be anywhere!” She sighs dramatically and you keep your indifference intact.

You arch an eyebrow and say, “So what?” Her gaze narrows just a little and the pout transforms into a frown.

“You don’t _understand_ ,” She gives this large sigh and you roll your eyes at her. And she calls this kid dramatic? She was making a lot of fuss over someone she said she didn’t really care for. “I can’t just let him loose on my poor hapless guests! He can be a handful for anyone, and he’s even worse when he drinks! He’s just going to end up being a complete asshole to everyone he comes across until he drinks himself into a weepy mess. And then you know who will be left with the pieces to clean up? Me.” She pulled her hands from your chest to cross her arms tightly just under her breasts. You huffed softly. You are not drunk enough to listen to Princess Bitch rant about her runaway prince.

She starts talking again, speeding up as she does, and the words crash over you like a drunken sailor’s tale. You are the naive little kid sweeping up in the bar and she’s the drunk who’s leaning in too close and telling you a story you really could have lived without ever hearing. “I know I shouldn’t have invited him, no matter how extravagant his gifts are for me, but I was hoping that things would be better between us by now! I mean come _on_ , we’ve done this little song and dance back and forth for months now! We’ve had our space but he was a really good friend, you know, when he wasn’t a complete prideful little jerk!” She giggles then, and shakes her head, “And he was always good with gifts, too, like, _really_ good with gifts! He was not at all shy about spending money, even though I have plenty to pay my way on my own, he was always very insistent.”

“You say he was just a friend but that doesn’t sound like just a friend to me,” You say casually in one of those quick breaths she takes. You sip from your drink because fuck, this is getting more boring than it was before.

Princess sticks out her tongue, “Eech, I guess it does, doesn’t it? He was just not my type at all, you know, he’s was too clingy and needy, always asking me to do stuff for him and talking like I owed him time or whatever. I know he could be a real sweetheart when he tried, but he always seemed to think that there was more to him than there ever really was! Kept trying to hold my hand and got annoyed when I talked to other boys or,” she giggles again, her look mischievous, “sometimes with my close girl friends too.”

You take another drink before you open your mouth to talk, giving yourself a little time to bite back the cutting remark hiding just in the back of your throat, “Huh.” God she was annoying. Using him for his money and saying they were just friends? She probably confused the hell out of the kid.

Giving a hearty sigh, the sly look was replaced with eyebrows arched up in concern and a sweet little smile that made your teeth hurt. “I’m soooo sorry to be dumping all of this on you, my brave knight, I guess I get a little loose lipped when I’ve drunk too much! I just wanted to warn you because he’s probably going to be drunk off his ass and trying to sing karaoke or sitting under a table or hell maybe on the table! He’s done some weird stuff at parties after getting drunk, you know.”

No, you don’t really know. You and your friends have avoided parties like this before because of shit like that. You almost wish you were doing the underground movie viewing again. At least then you could escape from the suffocating air of pretentious condescension. You promise yourself then that you won’t come to any of Princess’s parties again.

“Anyway, enough talking about him, we should probably find him. He might play along with our little roleplay,” She flutters a little wink at you, “and I could upgrade him to a visiting Prince! That certainly would make him feel important enough not to get in my way.” She blinks a moment and then laughs, reaching up to pat your shoulder, “You don’t have to worry, though, I won’t leave you stranded with him! That would be so rude!”

At this point you think that looking after said arrogant drunk would be better than Princess Touchy-Flirty. With him you could probably get away with bitching about said Princess. You wish again, for the hundredth time that evening, that you had kicked your friends out and stuck around with Eridan to webcam. What sort of fun shenanigans could you be getting up to if you had? “So let’s find your Prince.”

She laughs. Outright laughs at you. “Oh my god, don’t say that! He’s not my prince, god no! He’s just a loose end we have to keep an eye on!”

That makes you cringe just from second hand dismissal. And she was going to make this kid follow her around for the rest of the party? Fuck that.

Sliding her arm around yours, she wipes a tear from her eye and says with a little laughter still in her throat, “Let’s go find him, hm? He’s got to be around here somewhere!”

Then she drags you off. You feel sick to your stomach and it isn’t just from the booze.

After searching room after room, it turns out ‘somewhere’ is in the front room where the presents have been piled high. He’s standing with his back to the door, and Rose was absolutely right, he was wearing a perfectly tailored purple cape. You can see the bottle of some booze in one hand and one of those red plastic cups in the other, held lightly by his fingertips around the rim of white plastic.

“There you are!” Princess cries the moment you step into the room. You are momentarily distracted by the enormous pile of presents. Just how many people did she invite to this thing? You realized a while ago that you hadn’t brought anything, and wondered if your friends had either, or if it even mattered at all.

Prince boy turns around, and you linger by the doorway, looking him over as his focus is all on the Princess. He’s got dark rimmed glasses and a narrow sort of face with high cheekbones. His eyes are dark blue and half hidden under his furrowed brows. The hand around the bottle tightens and there’s a clink of metal on glass as the rings on his fingers shift with the flex of muscle. Princess throws her arms around his neck and gives him a wet kiss on the cheek but he just stands there stiffly, lifting his head away from her.

“You idiot! Why didn’t you come find me first!” She is draped all over him and you have to drink from your glass to keep from laughing at her. Her voice is too highpitched to be sincere joy at seeing her ‘friend’. Said friend opens his mouth to speak but she claps her hand over it and says, “No, no, don’t say a damn thing, I changed my mind I don’t want to hear it!”

He sighs around her hand and for some reason you feel an electric charge run right down your spine. You blink and look closer at him. Have you met him before or something?

“I see you got your tag,” Princess was running over you both with her words again, “Prince Hamlet, huh? Jeeze, you are such a theater dork!” She laughs at him and flicks the collar of his cape with her fingers. He glowers at her and pulls back.

She puts up her hand again, “Don’t you dare even start. It’s my birthday and my party and I’m the Princess, and the only one who gets to be royal. When you had your party you had the chance to be Prince! C’mon, I’ve got to fix this.” She grabs his arm and drags him through the second entry way into the room. He gives a surprised shout, but goes stumbling after her.

You frown slightly, because there was something so familiar about him, you had to have met him before, somewhere, as you follow them out of the room. Princess has dragged him over to the namecard table and ripped up the one he had been wearing. He mutters softly, too softly for you to hear, as he bends over the table, writing another name.

Only when she nods her satisfaction does he get to put it on his shirt. “That’s much better.” She flashes him a smile and pats his cheek like it’s a reward and then turns to introduce you two. “Sir Clockwork, this is Lord Tybalt. Lord Tybalt, may I present you my knight, Sir Clockwork.”

He looks at you with as much interest as he’s been paying the Princess, his eyes sliding over you like a flighty summer breeze. Carefully holding his drink, though, he gives you a little bow, “It’s my pleasure.”

Your heart stops in your chest. Your breath is caught in your throat. You stare at him, rooted to the spot, unable to even think because how can he have that voice? That voice that you know. That breath you listened to. Though the tone was cool, cold even, and distant, it was him. It was _him_. How the _fuck_ did this kind of thing happen?

He’s watching you, waiting for some sort of response, witty or otherwise, but your blood is roaring in your ears like a TV channel of static on maximum volume and all you can think of is how utterly impossible this situation is.  He shouldn’t be standing in front of you, oblivious and fantastic in that pompous purple cape. You shouldn’t be standing there, gaping at him, drunk and with glitter on your clothes from the Princess Bitch. This wasn’t how you were supposed to meet. Late at night when you imagined seeing him for the first time, you didn’t expect this kid with a lock of purple hair curling down on his forehead, black framed hipster glasses around perfect blue eyes and a vicious, unhappy look on his face that seemed etched there by Michelangelo himself! “This isn’t happening,” you say, but your voice sounds far away, like an echo from the back of a deep cave. “This is so not happening.” It isn’t cool or swave or charming or even a good first impression. You can barely stand upright because of the booze in your belly, let alone think.  

He gives you this annoyed and somewhat confused look. He lifts his chin and pulls back a lip in a sneer. He looks like some storybook villain like that, with the collar of his cape up around his chin and his dark eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses. Sling a rifle to his hip and give him a battle scar across the face and he’d be perfect for the role. Your drunken body decides a mental image of that is enough to get excited about and you have to look away from him to the least appetizing thing in sight- Princess What’s-Her-Name- but it does you no good, no fucking good at all.

For, in the very next moment, he speaks. “What the ewerlowin’ fuck are you talkin’ about?”

It’s official, you decide. He’s perfect.

The shiver that rolls through you cascades down your back via your spine and down to your curling toes. You can feel the torrent of goosebumps racing across your skin and it makes your fingers twitch from the feeling on your arms. You sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye and almost groan. He looks so confused, brows furrowed and lips pursed together, pouting just a little from his concentration. You could kiss him right there.

You really, really want to.

“Are you goin’ to answer me or what, a lord not good enough for a knight now?” The anger in his voice is palpable. You see it burn away the pout on his lips. It makes your mouth dry out. Is this who he was in person? Is this who he was drunk? You take a swig from your glass to get a little moisture and turn to him. His eyes are narrowed slits between dark, dark lashes.

“Maybe that’s exactly it.” You have no idea what you’re saying to him, “Maybe you gotta prove yourself to me.” You have half a mind to cut out your own tongue now.

His lips pull back in a sneer, showing white perfect teeth. You have the strangest urge to lick his lips. “Sure, judge the lord. I bet you took the fuckin’ princess her at first fuckin’ glance.” He gestures to Princes Whatever, who indignantly puts her hands on her hips.

You begin to laugh. He couldn’t be more wrong about her!

“Hey, hey babies, what’s all this laughin’ for?” You shut yourself up by biting the inside of your cheek as Roxy comes stumbling into the area, her heels clacking on the tile floor. Though drunk, her steps are steady and sure, telling you she’s a lot less drunk than her slurred words are showing. She has her purse slung over her shoulder and a couple of bottle necks are sticking out of the gilded top.

“My lady?” Princess asks in surprise, “Are you leaving so soon?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. I gotta....thing to go to!” Roxy giggles, giving the princess a wave. Eridan turns googly eyes to Roxy when she smiles at him. She steps over and kisses his cheek, her mouth lingering for a moment near his head. You swear you see her whispering to him in his ear.

When she pulls back, she pinches his other cheek  and says, “Don’t worry dearie, I’m sure  your boyfriend will be glad you came, even if only so you got outta the house!”

Then Roxy turns towards you and comes gliding over. She wraps her thin, firm arms around you and hugs you, all at once enveloping you in her warmth, floral perfume and the scent of spiced rum on her breath. “Kiddo,” she whispers into your ear. Her soft words are quick and simple, “Jakey passed me a warnin’. Baby’s on his way with some backup to cut the party short. Time to make an exit!” She pulls back and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Louder, she says, “I know it’s tough for a Strider to be chained down during a party, but you’ve done a great job.” Stepping back, she gives a pretend bow, the worst one you’ve seen all night, and waves her french tipped nails. “Well, I’m off. May you have an eventful night kids!” In a moment, Roxy vanished out the front door.

“Dammit,” Princess huffs, “I have to go see who’s managing the stockpile. Sir Clockwork, see to it that Lord Tybalt keeps out of trouble, all right?” With that, she turns on her heel and in a flash of sparkle and pink, she’s off down the hall to the kitchen.

“Neither of us is as important as the booze, huh Tybalt?”

Eridan’s confused look is back. He looks you up and down like he just can’t figure you out. You stare back at him, admiring the way his mouth twists in his uncertainty and a flush rises to his cheeks. You’re watching the dawn of something on his face. He opens his mouth to speak to you and you wonder what he tastes like.

Apparently, though, he decides otherwise and shakes his head. “You can go to the princess. I’m gettin’ the fuck outta here.”

“I’ll tag along,” you drain your glass and leave the bottle on the floor. “I’ve got to keep you out of trouble and all.” After a moment you decide to wipe the bottle with your sleeve, removing your fingerprints. They may or may not be in the system, after all. Doing the same to your cup, you stand and see him staring at you again, uncertain, “I’m ready, m’lord.”

“I’m leawin’ the party-”

“Sounds good.” You cut him off and go to take the bottle from him too. You clean it the same way you did your own and he willingly hands you the glass over. You could smirk. Clearly Roxy gave you both the warning, but not the Princess. Typical of her, to help out her favorites. “Let’s blow this joint,” You shrug at his silence, “Party sucks anyway.”

This makes him frown, “You were bein’ taken around by the hostess herself and you still didn’t enjoy yourself?”

“What can I say?” you get the door for him, “A Strider isn’t pleased without a little freedom. And I’m more of an ass guy anyway and you can’t see that ass in those ruffles even with the best technology around.” It’s true, even though you barely even noticed her ass when she was so adamant of letting you know she had breasts, after all.

“There’s that word again,” he says softly to himself and steps through the doorway, “Strider.”

You can’t stop the smirk, and honestly you don’t want to. He’s catching on! You let the door swing shut and follow him out onto the step, where he’s stopped again, looking at you with a concentrated furrow of his dark eyebrows. “Did you drive here, m’lord?”

Your question interrupts his thought. He blinks a few times and then shakes his head, “I liwe just a few blocks ower. I always walk to her parties.”

You barely manage to keep that smirk from blossoming into a grin. You offer your arm to him, “Then it would be my honor to escort you home, my lord.”

“What-” But you’ve already looped your arm around his and are guiding him down the steps, “Wait-”

“Nope,” you reply, tugging on his arm gently as you lead him off. “Which way?”

“That way but wait a second!” He points off to your left, you finally stop beside some car.

“Waiting,” you reply when he just opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a fish.

“You can’t be serious about walkin’ me home. What about your own ride?”

“Damn,” You reply, “good point.” Still holding onto his arm, you pull out your phone and tap into your pesterchum app. When you log in, you hear a faint _whrrr_ noise from his pocket you can only assume is his phone. Eridan abandons your arm as he goes fishing in his pocket for his phone. Without even trying to hide your screen, you send out a mass message to Jade, Rose and John. 

TG: time to blow this joint guys

TG: roxy told me jake is on his way with his buddies to bust it for booze and whatever else is here

TG: dont worry about me ive got an out

TG: later

You get quick responses, considering your friends are all busy- or at least you assume so. But the whole reason the four of you were still signed into pesterchum was for this exact scenario. Or at least, why they were all signed in. You had gotten off to keep from trying to text Eridan while you were supposed to be at a party, but a quick glance to your contact list tells you he hasn’t signed off after all. You still can’t believe it was the same damn party the whole time.

TT: Acknowledged. To put it in your terms, Dave, I have an out as well. Reconvene at Ihop for pancakes at ten?  
  
TG: its a go

 

GG: a little busy dave!!

GG: i left the party ages ago hee hee!

GG: pancakes at ten!

TG: good job keeping out the tmi jade way to go

GG: just be glad i have both my hands free ;)

TG: goddamnit

GT: good job dave ;)

GT: pancakes at Ihop

TG: see you at ten you dork

GT: takes one to know one

GT: faslghgl;;;;;lksd

TG: the fuck?

GT: kitty wants attention

GT: later bro

TG: right

You’re about to sign out when you get another ping. You were half expecting it, really, with the way Eridan’s poking at his phone. He’s glaring at it like it’s committed a crime against him.

CA: davve?

TG: hey man

TG: whats up

CA: your last name is strider right

TG: thats right its dave motherfucking strider

CA: thats wwhat i thought

TG: anything else i can help you with my little snuggle bottom “Fuckin’ hell,” Eridan’s shuffling his feet. You look up. He’s turned his back on you and is focusing on his phone. “Something wrong, m’lord?”

CA: snuggle bottom is fuckin awwful i forbid its use

TG: whatever you say squirmy butt

“Oh my fuckin’-” Eridan literally hisses at his phone. Hisses like an annoyed snake or, even better, an angry kitten. You almost die right there. “Dude? You ok?” He ignores you again.

CA: do not talk about my posterior in such a manner davve!

TG: dude cmon

CA: no absolutely not

CA: you dont evven knoww wwhat it looks like

CA: and its not squiggly!

TA: if you moved your goddamn cape out of the way i could get a better view

With that said, you sign off.

 

There is silence from him for a while before he slowly turns around. His eyes are shining with hope and his voice shakes as he asks, “Dawe?”

You can feel your grin spread so broadly across your lips that it makes your cheeks hurt. “At your service, my lord,” your sass is back in full swing. You have to slide your foot back across the gravel to do it, but you give him the deepest, grandest bow you can manage.

When you straighten up, his face is so red its almost purple in some places. You don’t think his eyes could get any bigger if they were outside his skull. “How--” he began, “Why didn’t-- how could--.” Each sentence ends before it can begin until helpless tears start gathering in his eyes and he cries out, “I had no idea it was you and I met you for the first time while drunk!”

You interrupt that shit right there by stepping up and throwing your arms around him. “I had no idea it was you until I heard you talk,” you say quickly, pulling him tight into a hug. He gathers so nicely in your arms, his face against your shoulder. He smells like sea-salt and Old Spice. “And I’m drunk too so its okay.”

“No it’s not, I wasn’t expectin’ this,” he hiccups against you, “This isn’t how its supposed to happen, I--”

“Eridan,” you whisper, because if he starts fucking crying you are going to lose it. You just got it back together, you cannot have that happening again. You shift so you can see his face, lifting his chin and looking at him in the eye. “Eridan, calm your tits.”

He blinks at you and then begins to laugh. Shaking with his laughter, he rests his head against you again, his fingers too tight in your shirt but you could not give a damn about that. When his trembling finally ends, he whispers against your jaw, “Dawe, please don't leawe me alone tonight.”

You allow the grin, since its hidden from his gaze, “Eribabe, you are going to be sick of my mug by the end of the night.”

“Try me,” he mumbles. You like the feeling of his breath against your skin. You decide to take him up on his words and your hands slide from around his back, straight down to his ass. You grab a double handful and _squeeze_. He nearly deafens your ear when he shouts out at you, but the ass grab was totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a short epilogue and then finally this little fic will be finished, sigh.


	3. Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Man, what do you think this is. It's the epilogue. Kind of like how Pulse was the prologue but not really, this is really the epilogue. Mostly cause this is a clincher and Pulse was a request. But both are from Eridan's perspective.)
> 
> After the party, Dave and Eridan camp out in a blanket fort being kawaii babies.

His hand inside of yours is warm. He’s taller than you are and with anyone else you would have felt bitterly about it. But this way his hand holds yours completely and honestly -if drunk you could be honest about anything- you feel protected by it. He swings your joined hands a little while the two of you walk. You would complain that its so childish, but he’s humming something under his breath and smiling just a little and you don’t want to interrupt him. He’s so stupidly happy that you could strangle him, if you weren’t feeling the same way.

 Distantly there’s the sound of police alarms, coming from that fucking house you hope never to set foot in again. Yet over here is a near silence enveloping you and him. Bugs chatter from the grass and your breath and his is made in time with your footsteps. The moonlight is drowned out by the yellow street lamps that cast long shadows off of the pair of you. When your house comes into view, you squeeze his hand a little and gesture towards it. He nods and his feet scuff as you walk up the stone path to your front door. He stops at it and so do you. The dark wood is as familiar to you as his hand is new. You look at him; he at you.

 “Going to invite me in?”

 “You need an inwite like a wampire?”

 He scoffs, “Hell yeah. I’m here to drain  you dry, babe, and leave you begging for more.”

 Your blood rushes to your cheeks and to your groin from those words. You dig out your key and fumble with the lock to keep your mind of his body heat and broad smirk. Once inside, though, you decide to turn the tables, or at least try. You glance at him and say, “It’s still early in the night.”

 Once you start talking, his attention rivets on you like no one ever fucking has. You lift your chin and continue, “Parents are still out, goin’ to be out for a while.” You lick your lips, “So what I said before still goes.”

 He’s silent long enough that unease begins to mingle with the warmth from his attention. You’re about to explain that you meant from before, on pesterchum. Anything he wanted to keep him around. So what you were desperate sounding, everyone said it anyway.

 But he cocks his head to the side and says with a voice as tight as your pants, “I don’t think we will need the webcam, though.”

 Heat fills your cheeks, “We _could_...”

 He steps closer to you. “Show me your room?”

 Nodding, you take up his hand again and lead him up the stairs to your room. He doesn’t do the gawking thing that a lot of people do when you take them up into your house. He doesn’t stare at the paintings your father’s hung up or the weird modern art your mother is so fond of. His attention is focused on you and whenever you glance over your shoulder at him you see your face reflected in his glasses. Somehow, that’s enough to set your heart pounding.

 He takes one look at your room, big bed, big open space and the ignored computer sitting on the desk, before he turns and asks you about blankets.

 Six chairs and four blankets later, the two of you are on  your mattress on the middle of the floor, a bowl of popcorn to share and your laptop on the corner of the bed with some movie being played. Dave’s curled around you, hand on your stomach and the other behind your head. You turn farther onto your back and smile up at Dave. He looks down at you, the corner of his lips turned up in his smile. “Good first meeting?” the world seems muffled, the blankets hanging around you and even the sound from the computer seemed far away. But you could hear Dave’s breath clearly and feel his chest moving beside you. “I didn’t grope you too badly, did I?”

 “Could be better,” you say. You’re warm and comfortable and feel tired in his arms.

 “Oh? What else do you need for the perfect night?”

 You reach up and pull his head down for a kiss. A proper one, not one of the stolen near drunk kisses from those hasty moments as you both ran from the police sirens. His mouth is warm and popcorn buttery against yours. At the end of the kiss, you close your eyes and lay your head back down again on his arm. You turn away from the computer, leaning your forehead against his shoulder and sighing happily.

 “Hey now, you’re going to miss the best part of the movie,” he mumbles into your ear.

 “Nah,” you reply, “This is the best part.” You yawn and he tightens his arm around you.

Just before you drift asleep, you think your hear him whisper in your ear. 

 “I...I love you.”


End file.
